Blood Ties
by Smizzlemort
Summary: "I fall to the ground and feel the spear pierce my back. Not so bad. But then I see her fall, bloody and lifeless on the ground. She can't be, she can't be. My heart slows down and my head begins to spin. Oh God, I realise, I'm dying. I'm dying."
1. The Reaping

Chapter 1

-The Reaping-

The sun beats down on my dry, rough skin as I work back and forth on the resting log. I can feel cool, sticky sweat run down my neck and over my arched back. I have been working since five in the morning, well before the sun had even risen and yet, I don't feel tired. Even if I am tired I really don't know, because whatever I'm running on now is beyond fatigue. It's continuous, a storage so deep inside of me even I don't know what it is. Maybe it's the routine of it that keeps me going.

I was alone before, but now, the lumber fields are filled with workers. Most are middle- aged men, only a few are young. We young ones aren't generally allowed near the chopping fields; we're destined for other stations. Only big, sturdy and experienced men roam here. But it's ok. Everyone knows my dad and everyone knows my skills. I can chop a dead log twice my size in no time flat. If they'd let me, I could cut down the entire fields in a day and a night and for months, no one would have to work.

It's not that my cuts are clean or that my technique is extraordinary. It's because I can go longer. Once I start a job, I don't finish until the sun peeps back down to the horizon. I don't know how, but I can. I only stop for five minute water breaks, a piss or even a dump every now and then. Usually, the other workers scold me. Not out of annoyance but of concern. We're a tight bunch; we lumbers and we'd rather burn out a forest than burn out a fellow worker. Not that that pleases the Capitol.

And anyway...

It's Reaping Day.

Everyone knows and everyone dreads it, no matter what age you are. They're letting me work like this because come eleven o'clock, we'll know if I'll be slaving away at the chopping block or have my head rolling off a chopping block. I need something to take my mind off it or I'll go mad.

I'm seventeen now and so far, I have been lucky. Not once has my name been called up. No one in my family has ever been a tribute, at least, no one I can remember. The odds have been in our favour and hopefully, it'll stay that way.

A finger taps me on the shoulder and instantly, my tightened muscles loosen and soon my fingers release the handle of the saw I have been clutching for the past two and a half hours. I turn my face into the blazing sun and with no aforethought; my hand goes up to my face.

It is Billyson Midds. Billy for short. Or Son. Or Middy. Sometimes, if I really feel like pushing him, I call him Muds. He pretends to be angry at first, even shoves me, but then his flustered face softens and soon he grins. Uncle Billy is like that. He can never stay angry for too long. He is an aging man though. Not young enough to be reaped, not old enough to carry a cane. Somewhere in the middle. He has been like a second father to my family, ever since I can remember. And he ages like one too. He doesn't have kids of his own and so every wrinkle created from worry and anxiety can be traced back to my brothers and sister. And of course, myself.

He gives me a sad smile and clasps my shoulder. "You've been working all morning Flux. Take a break. Go back home for a bit."

I shake my head and pick up my saw. "No. Not yet. I haven't finished-"

The look on his face stops me. He looks so sad all of a sudden. His face seems sunken and hollow and in a moment, he looks older than he does. And he's not skinny or anything. Our District isn't poor, but of course, we're not well off either. We don't live the high life of Districts 1 and 2, but we certainly aren't dying of starvation like District 12.

So what is it?

"What?" I ask, "What is it?"

"I have a bad feeling about today," he says quietly, "About the Reaping."

"Don't worry," I laugh, "You're too old."

He smiles but he ignores my comment. "What if...what if you're reaped this year?"

"I doubt it," I say. I actually don't doubt it. Getting reaped is a very real possibility but that's not my problem. It's the whole concept of the thing. Sure, I don't like the other Districts all that much but that doesn't mean I want to kill anyone. Especially if it's senseless and completely avoidable. It makes me sick to the stomach and that's what really ticks me off. I'm not afraid of death but nor do I welcome it.

Billy knows this and soon his expression hardens. "Let's toss you aside. What if Del is reaped? Then what?"

Of all my family, only my twin and I are eligible to be reaped. Everyone else has surpassed the age.

Delphi is a girl, which really isn't that great. It makes the two of us becoming tributes for our District even more possible. I'm still older, by a few minutes but that doesn't change the fact that we are carbon copies of each other. Excepting the length of hair and you know...the bits. I know her inside out, like I do myself. The muddy brown of our dust ridden hair and the pale blue of our eyes never fail to haunt our fellow district men. We move in synch, even when we don't mean to. I finish her sentences as she does mine. I fail a test, she fails. I succeed, she succeeds.

But she's not _like_ me. Death and destruction makes her squeal. Stepping on an ant gets the water works going. I don't care for myself, but if she were reaped I don't know what I'd do. She's my other half.

I chew on Billy's question for a while. What if she is? What can I do anyway? Nothing of course.

I suddenly feel angry at Billy. For hours, I had been able to push the Games out of my head and now look at what he's done! I feel like shoving him, tell him to stick a plank up his nose and leave me be. But I know he means well. He loves me and my family like his own and I can't bear the thought of hurting him.

I pick up my saw again and heave it over my shoulder. I know what he's saying and I hear it loud and clear, but I need to stay here for longer. I need to.

He sees this in my face and nods.

And then, he does something unprecedented. With his bear like arms, he grabs me, nearly winding me in the process and wraps his arms around me. If this is what it is like to die in the Arena by strangulation, then I am getting a very good demonstration.

I wiggle a little bit, indicating my lack of oxygen and so, Billy loosens a little. But now he is crying and soon, everyone is looking at us. He doesn't seem to care though. He just strokes my hair and tells me incoherent things I don't understand. But I don't complain. I just let him hold me.

* * *

By the time I leave the fields, the people of my District are already moving to the Centre Square. I am half dressed, only just managed to wash my hair in a nearby creek. In fact, I am still buttoning my shirt as I move through the crowd.

I'm searching for her and I'm wondering whether she's already there, firm and still as she stands in her age group. She's probably scowling and swearing viciously to herself, cursing my tardiness.

There are so many people heading to the Centre, we seem to be moving as one entity. All their heads are becoming a blur and it becomes increasingly difficult to tell anyone apart. I begin pushing roughly through the crowd and I am so focused on finding her that I don't notice the figure in front of me.

I shove into them and we both go sprawling onto the ground, my face making welcome with the ground.

"Watch it!" she screeches, pulling herself back up. My face still planted on the ground, my ears prick up as I recognize the voice. I flip myself back onto my bottom and smiled apologetically.

Delphi stands before me, arms crossed and very unimpressed. Her hair has been pulled up in a clean pony tail and a brown pleated dress flaps against her legs. She grabs my arm and roughly pulls me up to my feet as she pushes me into a nearby stall.

"Where have you been?" she asks, emphasising each word with a poke in the arm.

"In the fields, you lunatic," I exclaim, brushing away her violent hand.

"It shows," she says cruelly. I sigh and place my hands on my hips. The crowd is still moving, all with a sullen and deflated look on their face. No one enjoys the Reaping, the Games or the outcome.

Regardless of who wins.

I look back to my sister and notice her face has fallen.

"You should have been home an hour ago," She says quietly.

That's true. It's ten to eleven and soon, the televised reaping of District 7 will be broadcast. But like that really bothers me.

"What does it matter?" I say roughly, crossing my arms.

"Everything,"

She says it so quietly, I don't even know if she said it.

She looks down to her feet, her chest heaving as if each breath is a physical labour. She seems to be on the verge of tears, but for what I have no idea.

Well that's a lie. I know exactly what it is.

I place both hands on her shoulders and look right into her eyes, seeing myself in them.

"Everything is going to be alright, ok?" I say, "Nothing's going to go wrong today,"

"How do you know?" She asks, her eyes beginning to brimming with tears, "How can you be so sure?"

"I'm not," I shrug, "But, we've been lucky so far, haven't we? All I can do is hope. And should you,"

I take her hand and together we walk back onto the street, joining the steady crowd. She does not say a word and I bet she's wondering how I do it.

Coping.

When our pig Missy died, I had just sat down, let out one huff and got back to my work. When our tributes died last year, I just shook my head. I can sit through an entire Hunger Games without battering an eyelid and Del is left wailing silently to herself as we watch each and every tribute die on screen.

I think Del looks up to me, in a 'how do you do it' sort of way. But the truth is,_ I_ don't even know how I do it. I think there's something inside of me, something that used to wail and batter its fists against the wall at this sick game but now...I think it's dead. It's buried deep inside of me and I know it'll never come back out. I've watched the Games too many times and I've become desensitised. It no longer affects me. I think it's because I believe it will never happen to me. It's always to someone else's child, brother, sister or friend. It's always someone else.

Is it confidence? Or is it arrogance?

I have no idea.

* * *

By the time we get to the Centre Square, it is already four minutes to eleven. Evidently, the walk to the Centre had taken longer than expected. The age groups have already formed and it does not take me long to find 'MALE-17'.

Del spots her group. We stand there for a few minutes, unable to let go of each other's hand. She looks to me and I to her. I smile, trying to look as reassuring as I possibly can. We exchange a hug and go our separate ways.

I sneak my way into my group, squeezing between Ovid Avery and Richyard Gelbing. I push my hair back and squirm at the sticky sensation on my back. I ended up coming home so late, I practically ran out of house dripping wet and half naked.

I look towards the stage and see that everything has already been set up, the two glass balls set upon the stage. They are filled with hundreds of pieces of paper, each with black ink names scrawled upon them.

A knot forms in my chest at the site of them; those glass spheres hold our futures.

As my eyes scan the situation, I see that Mayor Brin has seated himself as has our District Escort Skene Odinshoot.

If I hadn't have known earlier, I wouldn't have realised that Skene was a male. He is decked from head to toe in bright, orange feathers that accentuate at his hips. His face is deathly white, his lips a sickening tangerine hue. His sleek wig seems to be stuck to his head with a super-strength adhesive, for not even a single hair moves. Capitol citizens sicken me, with all their bright colours and silly voices. Every time I am reminded, I feel like throwing a fit.

The District 7 Tribute Mentor, Johanna Mason sits to Skene's right. She's relatively young, considering she won not long ago. Her brown hair has been pulled up in a bun and her white dress is pressed. She looks quite neutral, but a subtle undercurrent of severe discomfort flits in her face. She twitches her nose and instantly I am remind of Del.

_Del. _

I lean forward a little and peer into the 'FEMALE-17' block right across. All I see is rows upon rows of long-legged, pleated gown girls all still and sombre as they wait for Skene's all deciding words. I crane my neck a little, trying to be as subtle as I can because I am completely aware the cameras are already rolling. Any sign of out of place movement would have the vicious heads swing my way.

She's not hard to find, not really. It's like looking for me, but in a dress. Actually that's really unfair. Delphi is pretty, in a meek and underappreciated way. To call her a boy in a dress is an awful thing to say.

When I finally catch her eye, her expression is completely dispassionate. It's as if she doesn't even know me. She blinks a few times before taking her gaze back to the stage.

Mayor Brin has taken centre stage and at the exact chime of eleven, he speaks. I tune out at this point; I've listened too many times. It's all standard procedure, it's all blah, blah, blah and I really can't stand it. These words don't change anything, they don't save anyone so why bother listening?

Del stands to attention though, her arms at her sides, listening dutiful to our Mayor.

Del's like that. It's why she looked so indifferent just seconds ago. She's scared of her own shadow but she won't show anyone. She's too proud. Especially when she's being filmed for all of Panem to see. She's only doing what we've all been told to do; 'if you're chosen, don't appear upset. Look indifferent. Throw your shoulders back and pretend that you don't care. No one wants to sponsor a simpering wimp.'

Her insides are probably churning like a pit as she, along with everyone else, just wishes this would end.

My eyes flick to the large screens assembled to my left and watch as the cameras fling from the crowd to the stage and back. I secretly hope my face would appear on the screen, so I can tell the Capitol exactly what I think of them.

There is a hush amongst the crowd as Skene Odinshoot takes to the stage. His feathers ruffle wildly in the breeze as he walks and I am reminded of a malting mockingjay.

He stands in front of the mike and offers our District a broad, toothy smile which certainly is not returned.

"Happy Hunger Games!" he bellows into the mike, "And may the odds be ever in your favour!"

_Don't jinx it now. _

My concentration slips in and out as Skene blabbers on and on about how he feels absolutely _honoured _to be our District Escort, the brilliant integrity of our people and our District as a whole. I would like to tell him just where he can stick his 'kind' words although I doubt it'd be able to get past all those feathers.

With no prior thought, my ears prick up involuntarily and I can sense that Del is tuning in too.

"And now, for the exciting part! Just who exactly, will your female tribute be?" he chuckles to himself, evidently impressed by his self-manufactured suspense.

The crowd remains silent and I am glad. At least none of us condone this game.

Skene daintily walks over to the glass bowl and sticks his hand in. He ruffles around a bit before he finally selects one piece of paper. He licks his painted lips and smiles as he unravels the paper in his hand.

There is absolute silence amongst the crowd and I can personally hear my own heart thumping against my chest. My mouth goes dry and my palms begin to sweat. I can only imagine how I feel when the male tribute is selected.

Skene gives one last smile before he utters the unfortunate name.

"Delphi Elphinstone!"

My heart drops into my stomach and my stomach consequently out of my anus.

The name repeats itself in my head over and over again and yet, it still does not register.

Delphi. _Delphi Elphinstone_.

My twin.

My sibling.

My sister.

Female tribute for District 7.

A glimmer of hope shimmers through me as I wonder if they are referring to another Delphi Elphinstone. But no, no, there she is. There's Del pushing her way out of her group, stony faced and sullen as she proceeds to the stage. Her thin arms swing at her sides slightly, her legs completely robotic. Something inside me wishes to scream at her to stop, but my mouth does not open and my hands remain at my sides as my District applauds quietly.

The murmuring has died down a little, but that does not stop the ringing in my ears. Del stands strong on the stage, looking completely ahead as though something from a distance has caught her attention.

The ringing subsides for a minute and in that time, I hear something that almost makes me fall over.

"Flux Elphinstone!"

In the time I had spent swaying on my feet with birds fluttering before my ears, Skene had dunked his hand into the 'male sphere' and plucked my name from the pickings.

I'm still glued to the spot and even as the camera focuses on me, I don't move. I lurch forward as someone pushes me from behind. I look back and shoot him a dirty look, wondering how he can encourage this.

He responds with a desperate look in his eyes, silently screaming at me to walk to the stage and take my place. I know he pities me, but I also know half of him is sighing in relief. He's been saved.

Slowly, but surely, I push my way through and begin to walk up. The crowds may be clapping but I cannot hear them. I can hear my own breathing, my heart slowly pumping. My vision begins to blur a little as I get closer and closer. I lock my gaze on my poor sister and as she looks to me, I look away.

I cannot bear it.

A million thoughts are running through my head and it is a mere miracle I make it up the stage. I'm quietly infuriated with myself as I think of my words this morning;

'_Nothing wrong is going to happen.' _

Skene smiles at me and addresses the crowd with words I cannot hear. The crowd responds with half-hearted claps. There's not much to celebrate; their tributes are siblings. I hear a few more muffled words and see my hand reach out and clasp Delphi's as we are made to shake hands. I clutch so tightly, her skin goes pale. And all the while, I avoid her gaze.

Skene separates us and holds each of our hands. He hesitates a little, as though he has just realised the sticky situation we are in. But ever so quickly, he sticks his happy face on and hoists our arms into the air.

"Ladies and gentleman of District 7, I give you your tributes for the 74th Hunger Games!"

* * *

**AN: I only just read the Hunger Games and this little number popped into my head. It'll be relatively short story...you needn't endure my incompetence for long! **

**Anyway, I'd really appreciate a review! Just to see if this seems interesting...**


	2. Chug Chug

Chapter 2

-Chug Chug-

I'm sitting down right now and I am staring at nothing. I haven't spoken a word since being reaped and I don't intend to start now. It's as if I have shut down, as if my body doesn't connect to mind anymore and I simply here because my heart is still pumping the blood around my body.

Del has put on a brave face, speaking enough for the both of us. She accepts everyone's well wishes but most of, she keeps my family reassured.

Usually, the tributes are put in separate rooms and their families see them as such. But since we're related, we're all in one room. My mom is sitting beside Del, her arm wrapped around her only daughter. My father is sitting beside me, our five year old brother Saffra rocking on his knee. Our big brother Otto is sitting on the floor, legs crossed as he attempts to coax some words out of me.

My family is chatting idly, reminding each other of happier days before this mess. I sit silently and listen; I have no intention of adding my own story to the mix. They laugh as they remember when I used to run around the house naked or when Otto shot himself in the knee with an arrow once. That actually wasn't all that funny at the time, all that blood and screaming. But now, I suppose it's something I'll be seeing constantly from this point on.

After a moment's silence, my mom licks her lips and speaks; "You'll be safe, won't you? You'll keep each other safe?"

Something ignites in me and I can feel it growing at an exponential rate. It's a mix of anger, despair and pain and before I know it, the words have already left my big gob.

"Safe? _Safe?_" I sneer, "Oh yes Mother. We'll be _safe_. We're only about to enter a game that requires the contestants to kill one another. It's only all knives and spears and bloodthirsty Career Tributes and automated weather changes. Nothing _bad_ is going to happen, it's not like either of us is going to die or anything."

My family falls silent and I know I have gone too far. My mother looks like she's about to burst into tears, her bottom lip quivering. Even Saffra knows something's up and he falls as quiet as a mouse.

I take my mother's hand and give it a quick kiss. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry,"

She leaves my sister's side and pulls me into her arms. "It's alright baby, it's alright."

My head is buried against her shoulder as attempts to soothe me with kind words. Nothing will soothe me of course, no kind words is going to change my predicament.

Our predicament.

There is a knock on the door and Peacekeeper opens the door. He gives us a sad smile and beckons my family.

It's time to leave.

My sister and I stand up as we give each member of our family a hug and a kiss. Each of them leave quietly, and one by one they are almost gone. Last to leave is Otto. He pulls both of us into a hug and as he pulls away, he taps our cheeks.

"See you on the other side," is all he says.

I am left standing a little confused, wondering what exactly he meant. But my confusion is pushed aside as Billyson Midds enters. He looks worn and beaten, as if he had just returned from work. His lips are quivering, his hands shaking. His eyes are so red, it is as if he has been crying for ages.

Before Del and I can say a word, he pulls us into a hug. He does not let go as he sobs heavily into our shoulders. And as if by program, we begin to cry too. We're crying so much, we're almost wailing.

He holds us as arms length and smiles like he's the proudest man on earth. "I remember when you two were just babies. Tiny things you were. Tiny! And now look at you! All grown up and..."He stops as he lowers his eyes to the ground. "Just...make sure...make sure you stay true to yourself out there. Alright? Don't be fooled by anyone. It don't matter what happens, just don't lose your-self."

I have no idea what Billy is going on about. Who else are we going to be in the arena? Are we going to morph into someone else? Will the pure need to survive drive me into a dark corner of my psyche? No, of course not. But I simply nod and smile at Billy's words, wondering if he understands himself.

There is a knock on the door and a heavily armed Peacekeeper enters. It is time for Billy to go.

Billy clutches both of our hands and rubs them. It's clear he doesn't want to let go and I don't either. I'm sure Del feels the same. When Billy finally leaves, it is as if my breath has left my body. What we're about to do finally hits me and I can feel myself swaying.

Del catches me in time and together we sit upon the floor, clutching each other with a fierce grip. Her cheek is resting against mine and her hand is wrapped around my head. Tears are pouring down my face and there is nothing I can do to stop it. I can feel Del crying too and soon her tears mingle with mine.

* * *

I can't say I've been the most pleasant tribute District 7 has ever had. In fact, I'm probably the biggest, whiniest asshole this nation's ever seen. I can't help it. How can I? I'll be dead in a couple of days. Wouldn't that make you whine too?

Del has been the perfect little angel though. She's swooned everyone who's come into contact with us and everyone seems to be rooting for her to live. Sweet, gullible Del. Not angry lumber Flux.

Skene and Del seem like best friends. They're always laughing and always chatting away, as if they've known each other for years. Apparently, they have a lot in common. That, is of course, complete bull but who am I to say anything? Skene has made an effort with me, I'll not deny that. He tries to engage me in conversation and he complements my non-existent attractiveness. But he's just so...Capitol. I can't help but hate his shrilly voice and his ever-changing bird costumes. I think, if Skene hadn't been born a man, he'd made a perfect avian.

I look down at the table and my mouth instantly becomes slick with saliva. Several of masked bowls of brother, omitting strong and warm smells that fill nostrils. Bowls upon bowls of meat stews and marinades, still steaming. The vegetables are all such bright and healthy colours it begins to hurt my eyes. The desserts are a compete assault on the senses; I almost fall over.

It's nothing I haven't seen before, but it's something I hardly see. It has been a couple of nights of these abundant meals and still the magic has worn off.

I'm stuffing down an assortment of meals, not caring for their particular tastes. I'm just making sure I get to eat everything I ever wanted before I die. There is actually a whole list of things I want to do before I cark it, but I don't think I'll be able to complete it.

I can feel three pairs of eyes staring down at me and so, my mouth still full of food, I ask: "What?"

Johanna, Skene and Del are all staring at me. Their plates seemed to be untouched; watching my wolf like manner seemed to have filled their bellies. Del rolls her eyes at me and begins to slurp elegantly at her soup. I don't like my sister's manner. It makes me look like a savage and quite frankly if I go down, she goes down. That's how twins work.

I consider picking a booger out of my nose and flinging it into her soup, just to really make her gag, when Johanna stops me. She clears her throat and gives me a smirk. I don't know if I like Johanna. Sure, she's smart and strong and any tribute would be lucky to have her as mentor. But she's just so...full of it.

She places down her fork. "You know I realised I don't know what either of you can do,"

"He chops up trees most of the time," says Del immediately, jerking her thumb at me.

"I've noticed," smiles Johanna, as she eyes in me, "You've probably got a lot of upper body strength,"

"I don't know," I manage to say, avoiding complete eye contact.

"How good are you with a knife?" asked Johanna.

"A saw is more my thing."

"Axes?"

"Yeah," I shrug my shoulders, "Sure,"

"What about you Delphi?" Skene asks my sister. He likes her, more than me I can tell.

"I can make soup," smiles Del. I snicker as Skene giggles.

"Great," snaps Johanna, her voice passively malicious, "You can throw hot soup at the other tributes! You'll get points for creativity,"

I slam down my fork on the table and eye Johanna with distaste. "Don't you pick on her,"

"I'll pick on whoever I want thank you very much," retorts Johanna, staring me down, "In fact, it's my _job _to pick on you two. If I didn't, I'd be a very poor mentor,"

I slump back in my seat and cross my arms. "Oh, 'cause you aren't already,"

Johanna and I have something of a standoff, eyeing each other and waiting till the other cracks. Skene and Del look terribly uncomfortable and it does not take long for Del to save the situation.

"Don't listen to him," she says, "He's been grumpy ever since he was born. I think you're great,"

A silence passes between us and I am left wondering if Del is sucking up to Johanna, or if she's just being sincere.

"I think I've got it," smiles Skene. He has this air of superiority going on, as if what he knows is valuable and important information. "Your talent,"

"Which is what?" Del asks.

"Sincerity,"

I burst into laughter that I cannot help which Del responds with a pointed look.

Still laughing, I throw my hands into the air. "Well excuse me, but how is that a talent? Can you spear hearts with sincerity? Can you maim with sincerity?"

"No, but it'll be just about the only thing that won't be in that arena," says Johanna, a slow smile spreading, "And you can count that none of the other tributes are expecting to find it. Use it to your advantage Delphi,"

"Like you acted like a coward?" Del asks sincerely, "In your Games?"

"Exactly,"

"That's all fine and dandy," Del sniffs, "but...I still need a weapon,"

"How good are you with a knife?"

"She scarves figures out of wood," I interrupt, "...for _fun_,"

"Could you throw one?" asks Johanna. Del nods and this is news to me; Del can't even throw a potato into a pot. How is she meant to throw a knife at someone? Has she secretly been practising behind my back? Is _she_ actually the lethal one? Am I the weak-ass of the duo?

"Then stick to a knife," orders Johanna, breaking me out of thoughts. I can't help my attitude; every time Johanna says something, I want to start an argument.

I shouldn't be getting to know Johanna at all. I should be back home, chopping wood into tiny pieces. Not on a train to the Capitol, ready to chop someone up.

"What she gonna do?" I blurt, "Carve a horse and hide inside it?"

"She can make toothpicks," says Skene, nudging my sister.

I push out of my chair and get up. My force is so hard, the table shakes and Del's soup slops out of its bowl.

Skene, Johanna and Del are all staring at me like I'm lunatic. But it's not me, it's the situation that belongs in a pysch ward.

Children aren't supposed to be killing each other for entertainment! People aren't supposed to be entertained by it! And here my trio act as if this were all a big game and nothing bad is to come out of it. I'm sick of it and if I don't have a shower now, I think I'll combust.

I topple my chair over and storm out of the dining room. As I leave though, I yell: "She'll make toothpicks! Then she stick the other tributes in the eyes!"

I am a good few metres away but I can still hear Skene say, "That's not actually a bad idea,"

* * *

The quiet drones of the train drum in my ear as I look up to the ceiling of my cabin. It has been an hour or two since my little outburst but, much to my displeasure, there is no sign of stopping until we reach our destination.

The Capitol.

I get a strange feeling when I think of the Capitol. A mix of disgust and fear that I am not quite able to comprehend. There is a knot in my stomach and it has been growing in size ever since we stepped onto the train. I don't think it will ever stop growing. Not until there is a knife through my heart.

There is a _click!_ and the sound of a sliding door. I look to my side and see that Del is here. I look back to the ceiling as she closes the door behind her. I haven't apologized for my rant yet and I am not about to. But still, I feel a little awkward.

She sits beside me but I make no move to sit up.

"Hi," is all she says.

"Hi," I grumble back.

"I think we're almost there you know,"

"Really?" I ask, shrugging my shoulders, "I hadn't noticed."

"You really shouldn't have yelled at Johanna like that," she says, "She's only trying to help."

A sudden burst of anger fills me and I sit up. I can tell my rage filling me up because my ears are burning.

"Help? _Help?_" I exclaim, "Help to us what? Get killed?"

"No!" shrieks Del, "She's helping us to stay _alive_-"

"Us? There is no _us_! She's helping only _one_ of us, because you haven't noticed only one of us can live. If at all!"

I can feel my breath quickening and as a consequence, my chest is heaving heavily. I've upset Del, beyond repair. But really, I was only stating the bleeding obvious.

"You think I haven't considered that?" she mutters quietly.

Instantly I feel terrible. I stare out of my window.

"You think I haven't thought about it Flux?" she continues, "But don't you see? We're doomed no matter what happens,"

I look to her, but I say nothing. I can see where this is going.

"This isn't a team sport; at some point we'll have to kill one another. And if we don't, someone else will. And if we make it to final two, we'll still have to kill one or the other."

"You're not the only who's thinking that," I say, "I bet every tribute right now is saying and thinking the same thing."

"But it's different for them," she says.

"How?"

"They're just tributes. I bet more than half of them hardly knew each other before the reaping, there's nothing between them. You and I…you're my brother Flux. If you die and I don't..."

By now there are tears flowing down her cheeks and she does not move to clean them away. I feel a gush of affection for my sister, for her words ring true. I don't know what I'd do if she died and I didn't.

I'd probably kill myself.

A billion thoughts are running through my head. Most are of hate of the Capitol, others are of our family back home but one stands out to me more than anything.

The bond I share with my sister. I feel, no, I _know _there is a part of her soul is embedded in mine and mine in hers. Twins share a connection no other set of siblings can hope to know. And that nothing can break that bond. We were born together. Everything we did, we did together. Sure, puberty was something that pushed us apart for a while. But like everything you lose, it eventually comes to you.

We entered this dire world together and the only way to leave is to together.

I take out my hand. I am about to make a pact with my sister, one she will definitely agree to and one (if they had known) the Capitol would punish us for.

"If you die, I die,"

She stares at my hand and then into my eyes. She smiles slowly and instead of taking my hand, she throws her arms around me.

I hold her tight and I feel like I'll never let go.

Her lips move against my ear and she whispers something that makes me sigh with relief.

"Ditto,"

* * *

The Capitol is unlike anything I've ever seen before. So many lights, so much noise and so much colour. People walk around in bright, nauseating colours and speak in their shrilly, obnoxious voices. It makes me wonder if they're ever embarrassed of themselves. Walking around like an idiot all the time.

I can imagine that the people here could want for nothing and it makes me sick to think that whilst the citizens here are living a life of luxury, ours will soon end.

All for their amusement.

But still, I cannot help but stare in awe.

"Holy mutt," I gasp.

Johanna chuckles. She punches me lightly on the shoulder and smiles. We haven't said a word since my outburst but I know that all is forgiven. I can see it in her eyes. Del's right; somewhere, deep down, Johanna does care about us.

She throws her arms around my sister and I. Del too, seems as though she had been hit over the head with a lamp.

"If you think this is all too much, wait till you get to your stylist," laughs Johanna, "She'll be a real _treat_,"

* * *

**AN: Thank you so much to Hermionemarcus for reviewing! I was beginning to think Blood Ties was terrible! And thank you so much to all of those who have favourite and alerted! I hope you liked this chapter. I don't know when I'll update again, but in the mean while, (cue the shameless cross advertising) you are welcome to check out my other fics!**


	3. No Friends, Not Here Anyway

Chapter 3

-No Friends, Not Here Anyway-

So…Johanna wasn't kidding when she said that my stylist was something of a moron. No, she wasn't kidding at all.

My stylist, Leech, is in her sixties and is sagging in places that make me shudder and convulse. She's got this grey hair that's so heavy with product and spray, it's a wonder her head hasn't collapsed from the heaviness.

But being sixty hasn't changed Leech's perception of herself. In her eyes, she's still twenty. Roaring and rearing to go, with a rocking body and a killer sense of fashion. That's what she thinks anyway.

As am I staring at her, watching her pluck and wax my tanned skin, I cannot help but wonder what she has seen in all her years. What did she look like as a kid? Has she ever been in love? Was she fat at any stage? Does she have children? Or has she been put off having children from seeing Games all these years?

She looks at me with her violet eyes and I am fearful she can see my thoughts. But she simply smiles and rips off the wax strip on my leg.

I don't think I've ever howled louder.

My prep team is harmless enough, just Capitol crones with frivolous and stupid obsessions with abnormal skin colours and out-of-this-world outfits.

I think Del's stylist is a little better than Leech. Luka is young and from what I've seen, has not been a stylist for very long. Which is probably why he lets Leech walk all over him.

When I first met Leech, I think she is harmless. She looks harmless enough. Anyone willing to dress like that must be harmless. But she is ridiculously deceptive, with a tongue as sly as Snow's.

And this is how I know. I go in, thinking for once we'll have decent costumes for the parade and yet, here Del and I stand in the most ridiculous costumes I have ever seen in my entire life. I have watched the Games every year and yes, there have been some shockers.

But this is just downright stupid.

I'm dressed as a twig and Del is dressed as a saw.

You've got to be kidding me.

Johanna is beside herself when she sees us, making no secret of the fact that yes, District 7 manages to look like complete pinheads every year.

I feel like stabbing Leech when she smiles broadly and asks me how my suit fitted?

Oh it fits just fine, I feel like saying. The tight fabric makes it difficult for me to walk and I am sure the tightness around my groin will ruin my chances of ever having children.

If I ever have children.

Doesn't look like I will by the looks of all this.

This parade, these costumes, it only makes my hatred for the Capitol even more. We're here to kill each other, to slit each other's throats and fling daggers at each other. Yet they have us dressed up in these suits and paraded around as the citizens of the Capitol choose their favorites.

And us? The tributes? We just have to smile and wave and pretend we're thrilled with this whole thing. Sponsors, after all, like happy tributes.

It makes me sick.

I check myself in a window and I feel that going in naked would be much better.

Del is enjoying herself though. She thinks its funny.

Hardy-hah-hah.

"Cheer up Flux," Del says, smoothing the handle of her costume.

I ignore her, wondering how she can stand it. But already, I can see her playing the game. She's being sweet and nice so that everyone roots for her. Johanna will favor her and I will be left in the dark. She'll get all the sponsor's gifts and I'll have to sit tight in the arena with nothing but the clothes on my back.

But that's not fair. Del's just being Del. She can't help that I am such a dick.

I look around and see the other tributes from the other Districts.

1, as always looks remotely presentable in their fine and shimmering outfits. Presentable by Capitol standards anyway. 2 looks pretty impressive, as does 5 and 4.

But 12. Wow. Now_ that's_ a change. Usually they look just as idiotic as us but it seems 12 has had a change of stylist.

A great change at that.

They're wearing these black leather suits, with long capes falling from the shoulders and almost to their feet. There's something on the capes, though, something special.

I actually can't wait to see what it is.

We are signaled to climb onto our chariots and immediately, this proves to be difficult.

The various branches and fake leaves of my costume limit my ability to move and in the end, it takes three people to get me up.

I can literally _feel_ the other Districts laughing at me.

Del's comfortable though. Evidently, it is far easier being a saw than a twig.

She is staring ahead, at a chariot well towards the front. I follow her gaze and realize that she is staring at a boy.

To be specific, she is staring at the little dickwad from District 1. He is clad in this ridiculous pink feathered coat and for a moment, I am reminded of Skene and his absurd outfits. I can't believe that a moment ago, I thought District 1 looked alright.

The girl is pretty hot though. Wonder what her name is?

I watch Del eye this boy with (and I shudder at this) flirty interest and much to my horror, he winks right back at her.

"Ok, ew," I say, "I did not need to see that,"

"See what?" Del asks absently, a small smile on her face. The 1 boy gives her a smile and slowly turns back round.

I shake my head. I decide to let Del have this moment of girly behavior because come a week from now, things won't be so dreamy.

The anthem starts up and once that is finished, it is followed up by this loud, ceremonial music. Our chariots begin to move and I almost fall over. I struggle to regain myself and though Del helps me up a little, her charity ends there. She has already begun to wave and smile at the Capitol crowd.

I catch myself on the big screen and even I am disappointed. Next to my smiling and giggling sister, I look like a spider has scuttled across my face. I look so sour; even I do not wish to look at myself. So I look away and try to smile as best I can, but it's nothing as impressive as Del, or now that I can see it, District 12.

I shake my head appreciatively.

District 12 is on fire. Quite literally.

Their capes have come to life and there are flames on their back from head to toe. They shimmer in the evening light and seem very radiant against the backdrop of the Capitol.

They look spectacular.

Good Lord, they're laying it on thick though. Holding hands and everything; what is this, a team sport?

But they're doing a better job of riling the crowd than myself so kudos to them.

I pluck at my costume as our chariot comes full circle and suddenly I am filled with this horrid sadness that I cannot explain. It's something mixed with despair and adrenaline and it makes my head spin.

This is all becoming to real and already, I can place myself in the numerous Games I have watched at home. I can see myself in their place and it frightens the hell out of me.

Everything is real and this, this very moment, it's happening right now.

God, I think I'm having an existential crisis.

I am only brought back to senses as Del grabs my hand.

"What is it Flux?" she asks, her eyes wide and concerned.

"Nothing," I say, staring at my feet. We are currently returning back to our chambers and quite frankly, I am glad for it. All I want to do is fall into my bed and sleep, to never wake up.

As we ride in the elevator, I become more and more reclusive. Everything blocks out and I am so out of it, I don't even notice that we have others with us.

It's District 1.

The girl is even prettier up close. Prettier than any girl I have ever seen. She's got this long, shimmering blonde hair that makes her look practically evil with the combination of her emerald eyes.

A good evil though, if you get what I mean.

She catches me staring at her and she gives me this grin that's both seductive and menacing.

I grin back just the same and this time, she smiles genuinely. She wasn't expecting that.

The boy is chatting to Del, asking stupid questions like 'what's your name?', 'where are you from?' or, 'Wow, you two are alike. Are you two related or something?'

"Yes," I say, catching the boy's attention for the first time, "We are,"

"How?" the girl asks, sounding a little skeptical.

"We're twins. Hence the similarity,"

The District 1 tributes are actually taken by back by this. They go quiet for a while before the girl says;

"That must really suck,"

"Yeah," I say, "It does,"

Of course it sucks, of course it bleeding sucks. I would have taken a thousand tessare if it meant I wouldn't have to be in this situation. In the most robbing game ever invented, right beside my sister.

It's alright for her, for the 1 girl; I bet she doesn't even know her male counterpart. I bet she even volunteered.

The girl just gives me a curt nod as they leave us for their floor, and being the gentleman I am, I return it. Despite her attractiveness, I cannot help but loathe her.

There's no point in liking her any way; chances are, she'll probably be the death of me.

Del nudges me as we leave the elevator ourselves. "They seem alright. I thought they'd be all showy and full of it,"

"They aren't Del," I say, wondering how she could be so stupid, "Not here anyway. They're just playing nice until they have to kill us,"

"That's an awful way of seeing it," Del mutters quietly.

"Well that's how it is," I don't mean to be so harsh, but it's the truth isn't it? You don't make friends here. It's impossible. How can she possibly believe otherwise?

I feel a little bad for it though. Del seems so stung by my comment, I have no choice but to try and make up.

"So…" I begin, a little sing song in tone, "What's his name?"

I actually don't care, but Del seems taken by this boy and you know, being her brother, I have to ask.

She smiles to herself and it becomes the most beautiful smile I have ever seen. She looks illuminated from the inside out and the sight of this breaks my heart.

"He says his name is Marvel,"


	4. The Training Centre: Part 1

Chapter 4

-The Training Centre: Part 1-

Training is unlike anything I have ever come across. I have never seen a facility so furbished and pristine, so structured and with purpose. Of course, it is a Capitol building and it is only a tool in this grand Game but it is beyond anything I have ever known and so, I am impressed.

The training stations are in a circle, with the complexity and difficultness of each task increasing along the said circle. It begins with the camouflaging section, designed to teach the tributes how to conceal themselves in whatever arena they throw at us. The 12 boy, Peeta, is the only one there and seems to be the first tribute ever to excel at the art concealing. I am no expert in art but judging by the looks the trainer is giving him, Peeta is doing a very good job.

There is a Knot Station and a trap-making one too. 4 is all over the former of the two, showing off their life-learned skills to everyone within distance. They fashion deadly hooks and impossible knots out of the most obscure things; nothing is safe from their expert hands.

And as for me?

Of all the stations I could have chosen, of all the possible places, I have chosen the Contact Station.

The Contact Station is basically a miniature wrestling arena. It is a feeble attempt to give the tributes some training in hand to hand combat, should a tribute ever find themselves without a weapon.

I don't know how the hell I got here, what the hell I am doing, or what chance in hell I thought I had against a District 1 tribute.

Regardless of her set of breasts.

Glimmer grunts ferociously as she comes at me with her closed fists, swinging at every opportunity that presents itself to her. I have never come across a girl as vicious as her back home, such a combination of beauty and ferocity.

I fight back as much as I can, but try as I might, I cannot bring myself to hit her. All my life, I have been taught never to hit a girl and even in a place like this, I am unable to break my principles. Even if it will cost me my life.

Glimmer comes at me again, but I manage to dance out of the way. She is very much exasperated with me and her increasing rage is evident in her flustered, pretty face. Glimmer places her hands on her hips and sighs deeply, signalling a silent time out.

Taking the opportunity for a break, I survey the rest of the Training Centre.

4 have moved on from the Knot Station and is now situated in the Trap Station, intimidating the very much frightened tributes from 8 and 3.

The large, giant-like boy from 11 is currently in a head to head obstacle course against the blonde boy from 2. The two giants are leaping here and there, dodging the on-coming attacks from the waiting Trainers.

For such heavy frames, they move with grace and ease.

The girl from 12 is shooting arrows in consecutive shots and I am impressed by her unexpected skill. If there was ever a District without a single chance at winning the Games, it was 12. I have only heard of their poverty and hardened lifestyles, the two factors only exemplified in the arena. But judging by these two, perhaps, this year will be different for them.

As I continue to observe, I see something that almost makes me throw up.

Delphi has wandered over to the Weapons Station. And much to my disgust, so has Marvel. As to whether it was the weapons that attracted him, or my sister, I have no idea. All I know is this; he looks even more intimidating in his Training suit than he was in his feathered outfit at the parade.

I watch as his lean muscles bristle and flex against the lycra material and any doubt I had of his physical prowess melts away.

Del picks up a long, lean spear and tosses it in her hands. A Trainer watches on as she takes her position, a good twenty or so metres from their target dummy. She stands with her legs apart, holds the spear over her shoulder and launches it at a nearby dummy.

Much to my surprise, it actual hits the lifeless doll, but it misses the blazing black target on its torso.

The Trainer pats her on the back, applauding her hit-but-miss.

I hear Glimmer grunt and that signals the recommencement of our little battle. I'll admit I'm a little out of it when she manages to climb onto my back and dig her knees deep into my sides.

She proceeds to smash her elbow repeatedly into my neck, but in all fairness to me, hand to hand combat is not her forte.

Her blows are not as hard as she expects them to be.

She stalls by a moment, clearly surprised at my resilience. But still, she digs deeper into my neck.

My concern however, is not this spitting and cursing harridan on my back, but the fact that Marvel now has his filthy arms around my sister.

He takes her arm and guides it, sleazily showing her how 'it's done'.

He lets her go, standing beside her as he allows her to shoot.

Del keeps her position and throws the spear, but once again it misses its mark.

"No, like this," I hear him say.

He takes her arm once again and this time, instead of letting her go, he keeps his hold on her.

"Are you sure?" Del asks, sounding a little nervous.

"I'm sure," Marvel returns, his mouth against her ear.

This infuriates me. What the hell does he think he's doing?

If she needed to be shown how to throw a spear, she could have asked a Trainer!

I look to the said Trainer and I am surprised to see that he is merely standing near, arms crossed and with a grin on his face. Clearly, he is amused by this pre-Game flirting.

They swing their arms back together and in careful coordination, Del and Marvel let go of the spear. It hits the dummy right in the heart and it topples over from the blow.

Del is beyond joyful, a smile so sincere spreading across her face. She turns back to Marvel, who rubs her back and gives her a nod of approval.

I am beyond revolted and for a moment, I forget where I am. She seems genuinely ecstatic that Marvel has helped her, more so than her new-found skill with spears.

I cannot believe that Del is falling for this phoney, nor can I believe that he is actually willing to waste his time with her.

I start to gag as I suddenly feel long, slender fingers closing around my neck.

Seemingly bored with my wall like presence, Glimmer has proceeded to try to kill me before the Games have even started.

Mustering all the strength I have, I grab a hold of her legs and swing her over my head.

She somersaults over me and her body lands with a thud against the floor.

For a moment, she is winded. Choking and spluttering the trapped air in her lungs. She jerks a little; evidently, I have thrown her harder than what I had intended.

I stand over her, hands on my hips as I try to regain my own breath.

The Trainer applauds me, statically pronouncing that he has not seen such an example of strength from a District 7 tribute since Johanna Mason.

When Glimmer seems to have regained enough strength to stand up, I offer her my hand.

She slowly props herself on her elbows, eyeing me with suspicion. Her emerald eyes scan me, watching me with hawk like accuracy.

"We're not in the arena yet," I say.

She smirks.

But though she is still very much unconvinced, Glimmer takes my hand and I haul her up.

I pull her a little too hard though and we end up rubbing our noses against the other.

She backs off instantly, flaring up at what might seem to her as a brazen advancement on my part.

I hold my hands into the air, laughing as I do.

She shakes her head as she wipes her forehead. She looks away for a moment, and like me, notices Marvel and Delphi.

"That is _beyond _gross," She says, shaking her head at the two who are still situated at the Weapons Station.

"You're telling me," I return.

I furrow my brow and poke her in the arm.

"Why don't you reel him back in?" I ask. "He's your...he's your fellow Career isn't he?"

"He still is," she says, shrugging her shoulders.

"Yeah and look at him!" I exclaim, pointing my finger at the scandalous couple.

I couldn't care less about how Glimmer feels about all this, but so long as it can get my sister out of the hands of a to-be murdering psychopath, I don't care what methods I have to use.

"Fraternizing with a non-Career..." I tut, shaking my head.

"Jealous are you?" Glimmer smirks, raising her brow at me as she tilts her gorgeous head.

"Of what?" I scoff, "_That?_ No way,"

She seems unconvinced and merely crosses her arms.

"I'm not," I repeat.

Glimmer shakes her head as she unravels her arms.

"Come on," she says, "Let's go again."

She puts herself back into her attacking position and not wanting to be caught with my pants down, I do too.

She runs at me, stretching her hands out as she attempts to grab my neck. I get out of the way just in time, managing to grab her arm and twist it behind her back. She buckles against me, grunting and huffing as she struggles against my hold.

I smile for a moment, realising that I am actually beating a Career at hand-to-hand combat.

"Well you needn't feel anything," she huffs, still straining against me, "Your sister is way too pathetic, not to mention mind-numbingly gullible, to join us. She wouldn't survive one night,"

My eyes widen and instantly, I let her go. She almost trips over but manages to catch herself in time.

She looks at me menacingly and in that moment, I have never seen a girl so fired up.

"What is that, a threat?" I say, shoving her in the chest.

"No," she replies, as she stumbles back a little.

She seems a little taken by my sudden show of violence, but she regains herself as she begins to move towards me. I figure that Glimmer is getting ready to punch me again but before my brain registers this, she has landed her fist in my eye.

I fall back, almost knocking over our Trainer who gives Glimmer a curt 'well done'.

My hand immediately goes to my eye, knowing that it is sure to swell within the next few hours.

She stands over me and pats me on the cheek.

"Not yet," she whispers quietly.

I remain in my place on the ground, watching as she saunters off to another station, ready to attack the bejesus out of some other poor soul.

I am about to stand back up, when a shadow falls across me.

If standing beside him had been an absolute terror, looking up at him whilst I am on my knees is downright traumatic.

It is the dark-skinned boy from 11.

He holds out a large, burly hand.

"Thanks," I say, as he pulls me up.

"Bad move," he says, his deep voice frightening me a little, "Pissing off a Career in Training,"

"What difference does it make?" I say shrugging my shoulders, "We're going to die anyway,"

I look over my shoulder and steal a quick glance at Glimmer, sure in my conviction that I have never met a more physically stunning girl than her. I actually feel quite pathetic for the extent of my attraction to her.

I turn back to the 11 boy and smile wickedly.

"Besides," I wink, "I think she secretly wants me,"

"You got any evidence to back that up?" he grins, raising his dark brow at me.

I swing both arms out, turning my hips slightly from side to side. "How can you resist this?"

He laughs this time and it is surprisingly comforting for a boy of his stature. It is unlike what I expect, and it gives me a reason to like him.

"Thresh," he says.

"Flux," I return, shaking his extended hand.

* * *

**AN: I know, I know I haven't updated in a while! But, I dunno, I had a huge bout of writer's block and I really was struggling. So I decided to move on to my other fics and consequently, I got bored with them as well. Then I came back to this and actually committed to finishing it. **

**So what did you think? **

**I would like to thank Someone2003 again. I understand what you are saying and I will try to clear that up. **


	5. The Training Centre: Part 2

Chapter 5

-Training: Part 2-

The sweet, marinated beef melts tantalizing on my tongue, spreading its warmth in my mouth as it travels down my throat. I shovel a glob of mashed potato to wash down the meat, a rather obscure way of quelling the spicy after effect burning my taste buds.

I sit in at the dining table, eyeing my competitors with as much severity as I can gather. Many have avoided me, even Del has left me for the likes of the Careers. The only tribute that has the stomach to sit by me is Thresh. But then again, no one wants to sit next to him either.

My mood has not improved as of late, in fact it has worsened. The Games will begin in less than a couple of days and needless to say, I have butterflies in my stomach.

Today was our last day of Training, culminating in a final performance in front of the Gamemakers. In many ways, I am lucky I am from 7. The Gamemakers have gotten through only half of the tributes by the time they had gotten to me. They had been at that precarious midpoint; very much sober, but beginning to giggle from a few glasses of champagne. I can't say I'll get a score of twelve, but I certainly won't get zero.

I'd thrown knives and axes in my session, managing to hit the target every time. Del had probably shown them her camouflage skills, or her new found love for knot-tying or even, though I shudder when I think of how she had learnt it in the first place, her eye for spear throwing.

We won't have a high betting place, we never have. But at least, I think, we've given the Capitol something to think about.

1 always tends to get the best scores, naturally considering they're a Career District and because they are the first to be seen. At this point, the Gamemakers are alert and attentive, eager to see what the tributes are capable of. When it's 12's turn…well, you may as well have not shown up at all.

My gag reflex threatens to bring my meal back up as I watch Del with the Careers. They are all laughing with raucous laughter, probably some dim-witted joke from the gigantean 2 boy.

Cato, I think.

Del seems a little out of her depth, laughing along rather than with them. I watch as she begins picking her food again, only to have Marvel pull her even closer to himself. She smiles, a little bashful I'll admit, but nonetheless she bends to his will.

"Who do you think has a shot this year?" I ask, shovelling peas into my mouth. I cannot help the sarcasm, but watching Del degrade herself makes me want to punch a wall. "District One or Two?"

"Could go either way," remarks Thresh, clicking his tongue. He has already finished his meal, well before I had even begun. But from what he's told me, things are pretty dire in 11; good meals are never taken lightly.

"Twelve is actually looking pretty good," I say, motioning my fork in their direction.

It's true. Pita-Bread has shown himself quite the master craftsman, and his impressive strength has quietened even the once-jeering Careers. Katmist, or Katnips, or Katniss-whatever her name is- hasn't really shown herself off. Throw a few knives here and there, shot an arrow and tied a few knots. But her lack of performance in training is by no means an indiactor of her talent. I can only imagine her mentor had told not to show any one anything until the time came.

Johanna had told us no such thing.

She had just said, _'Go for it. Do what you can. You might even gain some alliances.' _

Well, I did get Thresh. He's not too bad I think, great human shield.

"They are," Thresh agrees, but that is all he says. He doesn't say much on the whole, which is probably why I like being around him.

I discard my fork onto the floor and burp quite loudly. A few tributes turn and stare at me, some smiling, some rolling their eyes. But what should I care? Twenty-three of us will be dead come next week, what should it matter how I eat my food?

I roll the mashed potatoes and carrots into one sickly ball and plop it into my mouth. I am desperate to leave this Dining Hall, even if it means pulverizing my food together.

I look over to Thresh and nod my head. "_You _might win,"

He smiles and shakes his head; clearly, he is not convinced. I am not lying, not trying to give him false hope. He genuinely has a shot. There is something to be said about District 11 males, even Johanna agrees.

"What do you think he sees in her?" I ask, watching as Marvel murmurs something in Del's ear.

"Meat," says Thresh simply. I look at him curiously, my puzzled expression prompting him to explain his answer.

"I don't think he's speaking to her because he has any interest in her," he explains, "Just softening her so she won't be such a threat in the arena."

"She wasn't a threat to begin with," I say.

"Maybe he's thinking of Johanna," says Thresh, shrugging his shoulders, "That he shouldn't underestimate her,"

That makes sense, more than what I can conjure anyway. That makes me think; is that what everyone thinks of us? Snivelling and weak, but secretly cunning and deadly?

And that makes me wonder if that's what Del is doing. Whether she's actually captivated by Marvel, or if she's just using him to get ahead. And if that's true, why hadn't she told me? Why wasn't I part of the plan? Was this something she had concocted with Johanna? What if Johanna's found her favourite and it's not me? What if, when I'm in the Arena, Del will get all the sponsor's gifts and I nothing?

I can feel my anger and my confusion singing in my blood. They're singing an opera, high patched and terrible to listen to. They're telling me horrible things, making me think sad thoughts.

I grind my teeth and eye my sister with distaste. I had thought that the Games would bring us closer, make us realise each other's worth even more.

But this….this makes me sick

"I feel like going over there and-" I begin, ready to pounce onto the Career table.

"Don't," Thresh interrupts, placing a large hand on my arm. "You'll cause more trouble than it's worth. For the both of you,"

I sit back down slowly, glaring at my ally. His brown eyes stare me down, silently willing me to submit to his order.

* * *

He runs forward and manages to grab me by the hip. He wraps his skinny arms with as much strength as he can muster, but unfortunately, his strength was not much to write home about. At least I have worked in the outdoors my whole life, managing to attain something akin to power. But the heaviest piece of machinery this poor kid has ever dealt with is probably a sewing machine.

Not wanting to embarrass myself, I carefully push him and immediately, I grapple my arms around his waist. I throw him over my head and I wince slightly as I hear the thud of his spine against the ground. He wheezes, his chest rising and falling at an alarmingly slow rate.

The 8 boy looks up at me, his eyes filled with mirth. Perhaps he sees this as some sort of betrayal, a warped perception of siding with the Careers. But there is nothing I can do but shrug my shoulders; this is a Game after-all.

"Whoa," says Marvel, nodding his head appreciatively, "You've actually got some strength there, Seven,"

He, along with a few others, are waiting in a line to participate in the agility course and considering that it is right next to the Combat Station, he has been watching me carefully.

"More than you think, One," I say, returning his sardonic manner.

"Well I suppose one of you has to show some hope," He smirks, quick to fire a response, "For your District at least,"

"What are you saying?" I straighten myself up, trying to seem more aggravated than I am.

A few of the other tributes are beginning to stare, probably having noted my rising volume.

"Well, it's not like Delphi's getting anywhere,"

"You know, that's the second time your District has threatened my sister," I growl, taking a few steps towards him, "Do you _want_ me to shove your mouths down your throats?"

"You know I'm speaking the truth," He scoffs. But there is something in his tone that throws me; sincerity.

"What would you know about truth?" I hiss, my teeth clenched, "You'll lap up whatever the Capitol tells you so long as you're safe,"

I say this last part in a hushed tone, wary of the Trainers nearby. The Capitol may have offered me up to the Arena, but if I am not careful with my words, they can still hurt my family back home.

"Look I know it hasn't been long, but believe it or not...I actually like Delphi," he says, his tone soft and his eyes twinkling. "I'm mean, not _like_ like. Just...she's cute,"

He scratches his forehead. "The way she just follows me around and actually thinks that I'll protect her,"

"What have you said to her?" I snap, my fists balling.

"I haven't said anything,"

"I swear if you've lied to her about anything...just _anything_..." I shake my head angrily at him, my nose practically resting against his.

I notice with amusement that we are actually the same height, weird considering up until this point I had considered him a giant mantis of sorts.

"Alright, alright," Marvel laughs, throwing his hands up into the air. He backs away from me. "I'll be honest with you then. I _did_ lie,"

I stand back, my entire body tensing as I wait for his words. The surrounding tributes have all stopped to stare, huddling close to the alliances and District partners. It prompts a few Trainers to look our way and out of the corner of my eye, I can see them slowing advancing, realising that a situation is building.

I look to Marvel, my glare daring him to say a word of damnation against my sister.

He smirks.

"I have to admit, I _did_ tell her I'd show her a good time, but really-"

I don't know how I did it, I can't even remember doing it, all I know is that somehow one of my fists had landed in Marvel's glinting left eye and the other pounding against his throat.

It has taken him by surprise, my cat like pounce. And his surprise has rendered him defenceless. His is writhing beneath my body, struggling against me as I punch and kick and hurl obscenities.

"Hey, hey, hey!" I hear a Trainer yell.

I feel a pair of hands latch onto my back and despite my best efforts, I am pulled off the conniving son of a bitch.

The Trainer struggles to hold me back, my teeth bared and my hands itching to destroy Marvel.

Another is holding Marvel in a similar manner, although the other boy is not nearly as consumed with mirth as I am.

"Get off me!" I shriek, appalled by the Trainer's strength.

"Let's leave the fights for the Arena shall we?" The Trainer breathes into my ear. Knowing that I am fighting a losing battle, I fall limp in the Trainer's hands.

I hear him sigh contently as he lets me slip gently onto the ground.

He turns to Marvel and says, "And the slurs to a minimum?"

Marvel has been released just as I have and he acknowledges the Trainer with a nod. But I know in his heart he does not mean it. I can see in his eyes the hatred that is boiling in my name, I can see his mind calculating the most brutal and slowest way to kill me.

In that moment, I realise that I have painted a target on my back.

* * *

I sit patiently at the door of my room, straining for the noises that belong to my sister. It is about ten in the evening, about half an hour until we are required to be in bed.

I shift a little. I am in no mood to go to bed, in fact, I don't think I actually can. My mind is reeling over what has happened today, beginning with my scuffle with Marvel, all the way to painful stinging on my ear.

Johanna had not taken my outburst lightly. In fact, she had slapped me with such force and such severity, I had forgotten for a moment that she was a girl. Skene of course, had scorned me just as much as Johanna had, but had not had the heart to touch me.

I don't know if it was because of his misplaced sense of duty of care for me, or because he was afraid of catching my disease; volatility.

My ears suddenly prick, detecting the soft of pattering of feet.

No. Not one pair.

Two.

Ever so slightly, I strain round the corner of the corridor and peer down.

I can see Del at the far end, dressed in her night gown and her locks pulled into a low bun. She is speaking to someone but due to a pot plant, my vision is obscured.

But my hearing is not.

"...I'm so sorry. He's got such a bad temper,"

"Ah, that's alright."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Don't bother yourself with it. Just make sure you get a good night's rest, okay?"

I see her nod and she does, I can see the other figure lean out from the shadows; Marvel.

My heart automatically begins to beat furiously, my blood singing in my veins.

I watch as he places a kiss on her forehead.

"Good night, Del," I hear him say.

I almost throw up.

I quickly whip back behind the wall as Del turns towards me. She's probably smiling, maybe twisting her hair or twirling her dress. I can't believe his audacity, his complete ignorance.

Del walks past me and as she does, I catch the tail of her dress and whirl her round.

We almost collide but she manages she find her step.

"Oh, what is wrong with you Flux?" she asks, frowning at me, brushing my hand off her arm, "You could have just said my name,"

"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with _you_?" I sneer, pulling her close.

"Excuse me?" she scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Parading with the Careers for the _whole_ of Panem to see!" I am careful to make sure my voice is relatively quiet, but I cannot contain my anger. "How do you think that looks?"

"I am _not _parading!" she exclaims.

"You are!"

I realise that my ears are burning; they're probably flushed and crimson. I can feel the heat rising in my skin and judging by her rather cowered figure, Del can probably feel it too.

She turns away from me and looks out from the wide window beside us. The moon is shimmering through, the white light illuminating everything in its path. In this light, Delphi's skin is almost alabaster in hue; it is as though the light is shining right through her.

"They don't even like me," she admits quietly, her back still turned, "It's just Marvel,"

"Does he like you?" I ask, taking a few steps forward so that I am standing behind, "Or does he like the prospect of an easy target?"

She whirls around quickly, tilting her head she can look right into my eyes. She pouts her bottom lip and squints her eyes in such a menacing way, I forget that it is my sister I am speaking to. I suppose Marvel has been rubbing off on her.

"I'm an easy target?" she hisses.

"Yeah. You are," I say, returning her scorn and wicked tone.

Her face falls and I immediately feel horrid for snapping at her. Her shoulders sag and she droops her head, looking utterly deflated. Her arrogant, menacing stance is gone and her true nature returns.

I pull her into my arms and hold her tightly. Though she is reluctant at first, she slowly softens against me.

"I'm just looking out for you," I say into her hair, "Despite what it's called, this isn't a game Del. It's constructed mass murder,"

"I know," she says, he voice muffled against my chest.

"No," I pull away, shaking my head, "I don't think you do. I've been watching and you've been treating this as some sort of meet and greet,"

She pales for a moment, her lips parting as her face turns as hard as stone. She shoves me away roughly, her expression contorting with rage.

"What other choice do I have, Flux?" she shrieks, throwing her hands into the air. She thumps me once against the chest and though the force isn't enough to knock a feather, I am taken aback.

"Huh?" she demands, "What other choice?"

Though I have been caught off guard, I quickly regain my composure. If she wishes to turn this into a fist fight, I am more than happy to oblige.

"You could keep clear of those creeps and try to give yourself some shot of keeping yourself alive?" I suggest, my voice heavy with scorn and oozing of sarcasm.

"I thought if you died, I died?" she hisses.

"You know what I mean," I mutter.

"Think about it Flux. We're going to die," she says matter-of-factly, "So why pull any stops? Why not flirt with the bad guy? Why not hang with the luckier ones? Why not suck up to the Capitol?-"

"Because it's wrong! You're playing up to your executioners!" I exclaim, shaking her shoulders, "You're _condoning _this,"

"I wish things were different Flux, but they're not," she says, "They're not,"

She shakes her head a few times, sighing heavily as she twirls her pony tail in her hands. As I look at her, I wonder how on earth she has changed so much in the matter of weeks. The Del I grew up with is no longer meek and submissive, happy to take praise and shrug off criticism. This Del is wired, on the edge of delirum and agitated to the extreme.

In the past, she would have never reacted to my rants like she just had. She would never have stood up to me and demand a match of vile words. She looks over her shoulder, a silent way of informing that this conversation is over.

But I have no intention of letting her go, not yet anyway.

"Do you...do you remember what Billy said to us?" I say quietly, my eyes trained on my feet, "When we left home?"

She tilts her head to the side, opening her mouth to say something and before she can, I butt in.

"He said, 'don't lose yourself.'"

"He doesn't know what it's like..." Del begins. If she is wishing to seem strong and tall, her voice betrays her. It is as if my words have brought her back down to the ground, forced her to see the reality of it all.

"But its true isn't?" I say as I point at her, "You're losing yourself already,"

She goes quite for a moment before whispering:

"I know,"

That sends me over the edge, it makes me want to scream in frustration and bang my head against a wall. It is acknowledgement, acknowledgement that I wanted, but cannot bring myself to welcome. It is proof that this is really happening, that things have changed so dramatically it can never go back.

Del suddenly lunges forward and grabs me by the waist, wrapping herself around me as she buries her face deep into my chest.

She begins to sob uncontrollably, careful to not to cause a racket. Her shoulders shake terribly, forcing me to steady them with my arms. I rest my head against hers, taking in this moment as much as I can.

I feel a tear trickle down my face and instinctively blink away any more.

"I'm so scared," she sobs against her, sniffing and breathing heavily.

"So am I Del," I whisper, "So am I,"


	6. Scores

Chapter 6

-Scores-

I wake with a start, breath atrociously erratic, and wrapped tightly in moss green sheets that have become sodden with my sweat. Slowly, I rise to a seat position, allowing the sheets to pool around me like a polluted puddle.

I wipe my chin and around the edges of my jaw as I try to mop away any residual evidence of my terror. I had woken from a dream, or a nightmare rather, one in which bloodied and clenching hands had groped me from every unforeseen and insidious place as I had lain blindly in the dark. I had heard ear splitting shrieks, clear and resounding in my ears as if they had been real. Screams I came to realise were of my family; my mother, my father, my brothers, even Billy had been good enough to lend his blood-curdling cries. However, it had been the last one, the most deafening and most upsetting of all that had had me bolt up from my slumber; Delphi.

I stare down at my bare chest, watching the pathetic hairs dance against the hot breath of my mouth. I close my eyes, sighing as I do so. I swing my legs over the edge of my bed, wondering if it were better to remain in the horrors of my mind, or enter the one that lies just beyond my window.

The sun is up, that much I can tell. But the heavy bottle-green curtains that loom over the wide window that sits in the centre of my room are so dense, so thick, they only allow a sliver of light to filter in.

I push the curtains aside and stick my head into the winds of the Capitol. There is sweet smell in the air and for once, the incessant noise that occupies this great city on a consistent basis has surprisingly subdued.

For a moment, I wonder if today is some sort of national holiday in which all duties have been temporarily suspended, or if somehow an overnight meteorite has wiped out the entire population of the Capitol and has spared the sky rise buildings.

But it only takes a second to remind me that I am not that lucky.

District Training Scores will be revealed today, and it is only concrete supplementary verification that I am here and my fate is sealed.

And as if to compound my disgust, Skene appears at my door.

"You're not _dressed_?" he gasps in his shrilly tone and I feel rather disappointed that this is how he greets me. He plants his hands on his hips and tuts. "My goodness, Flux, today is _very _important!-"

"-The brightest of mornings to you too, Skene,"

He ignores me, head held high into the air as he prances across the room. Skene looks around for a moment, like an animal sniffing out a new home. As if he were touching something unpleasant and ghastly, Skene plucks a stray shirt from the floor and hands it to me.

"Delphi has been up since-"

"I don't think I need to remind you _I_ am not Delphi," I tell him through gritted teeth. He sighs, titling his head to one side. In the dim light, the green glitter on his lips sparkles like emeralds in the sun. It is quite pretty, if I am to be perfectly honest. But of course, Skene is never to know that.

Still holding the shirt at arm's length, he waves it excessively in my face and I have no choice but to accept it.

I pull on the shirt but become stuck at the collar. I tug this way and that, twisting the material until I can hear tiny stitches bursting apart. The stickiness of my situation only intensifies, and in a moment's panic, I let a girlish shriek. Skene, on the other, seems to have taken no notice for he only amplifies his voice in order to be heard over my pig-like grunts and squeals.

"And do something about your hair; you look as if you've put your head through a blender," he informs me, no doubt wrinkling his nose, "Even Effie's managed to get _her _tributes to look halfway decent and they're from District _Twelve_!"

With one last grunt of exertion, I break free from my entrapment and in the sudden detangle of limbs, I almost trip over myself.

"Your hair?" Skene repeats, tapping your foot.

I chuckle, for only Skene would ignore a near death experience if there were a hair out of place. He squints at me, twisting his lip as he does, silently demanding I concede.

Feeling the barbaric warrior settle within me, I stick out my left palm and run my tongue generously over it before slicking back half my crazed tufts with one swipe. I repeat the process, this time paying attention to the other half.

I smile.

"Happy?"

Skene crosses his arms, letting out a dismissive huff. He squints at me once more, crosses his arms over his chest before striding out my room.

"Careful you don't get any furballs, dear!" I hear him call.

* * *

I sit slump backed in my seat, head rested on my shoulder as my feet tap the floor absently. Everyone is here with Delphi and I, eager to see just how brilliantly or how miserably we faired in Training. Even my Prep team have made an appearance, looming over me in a cloud of foul perfume and reengineered beauty. They are all chatting excitedly, rubbing Delphi's shoulders and rallying estimations of scores between them.

I sigh heavily.

I have undoubtedly scored quite low, I am willing to bet even the 10 tributes have done better than I have; even that mousy haired boy with the limp.

My performance had consisted of nothing less than a few airborne axes, vulgar slips of my tongue and the dull thudding of a dummy against floor. I cannot imagine it was beyond anything the Gamemakers had already seen before; no doubt, Johanna herself must have done something similar in her day.

I roll my head on my shoulders, slumping in my seat to the point my chin is touching my chest. I clutch my glass in my hand, swivel the orange juice within it; I cannot help but notice the tiny blobs of the pulp the kitchen staff have managed to miss.

Incompetency has reached an all time low.

I feel the weight on the couch shift, and I lazily look up to my left. Johanna plops herself beside me, clad in a pair of tight pants and an even tighter, yet equally fashionable blouse. Her short hair is combed neatly to the side, the straight strands sitting obediently behind her pixie-like ears.

"You ok?" she asks, eyeing me up as she chews on something.

"Fine," I mutter.

"How do you think you went?"

"I really don't care, Johanna," I say, taking a swing of my juice.

"Well you should, numb-nuts," She snaps, slapping me lightly on the arm, "That score means everything to potential sponsors,"

I snort through my nose at her rather hopeful words, my mentor staring at me with a brow raised in question. I do not know why she cannot see this as amusing, why she can't see the hilarity of her words.

"Johanna, which District are we from?" I ask, this time opting to look her right in the eye.

She squints, observing me and no doubt mulling over a suitable answer. She's being cautious, wary of what exactly it is I'm alluring to. I'm aware of Leech's presence not a loveseat away, the old woman watching our conversion with interest.

"Seven," says Johanna finally.

"Good, at least you know that one," I pop a cube of cheese into my mouth. I do not often speak with my mouth full, but the time for social etiquette and the observance of mealtime gracefulness has long been abandoned.

"And how often do tributes from District Seven make it past the Cornucopia, let alone gain sponsors?"

I flick my brow in a quick motion, daring her to question me.

Johanna scoffs, gaping at me not so much out of surprise, but out lack of something substantial to say.

"_Exactly_," I hiss.

I clasp my hands together in a praying notion and wave them in her face. I am acutely aware of my rather shameful and disrespectful behaviour, but like my table manners, my observance of socially astute procedures has been disposed of.

"So please, for all that is good and sacred, just leave out all this...this _mentoring_ crap. Alright, stop trying to make out that we have _any_ chance of getting out of this alive."

"We _do_ have a shot Flux," she says, her tone nipping at me like a sharp winter breeze, "_I_ got out of this alive."

"_You're_ one in a billion, Johanna!" I shriek, mimicking her tone.

By now, the others have all fallen silent, watching us with unease. I can see the wretched expression on Del's face, the poor girl no doubt voluntarily harbouring the disgrace for both of us. Skene and Pip, Del's stylist, shift together uncomfortably in such synchronized fashion, I would have normally have laughed.

But despite the crowd, I'm still fuming and Johanna is standing her ground, so before my brain has even processed the words, they have already left my mouth and though it may have for split second made sense in my mind, they collide into a horrific carnage worthy of the Games itself.

"Not everyone from Seven is as manipulative and conniving as you are!"

Johanna gapes at me, wide eyed and every bit the barbaric fairy queen. She seems, for once, baffled for words and before she gains an opportunity to attain any such words, I immediately rise from my seat. I down the last of my juice like a shot before chucking the glass onto the coffee table. The fragile glass cracks, but for all my force, remains intact.

I march over to Leech's seat, making a dismissive wave with my hand as she moves to make room. Leech looks rather disappointed, her brow raised at my unsightly behaviour. Nevertheless, her disdain settles and once again, she assumes her deceptively cheery expression.

Leech is clad in grey today, varying shades of it, but grey nonetheless. A tailored over coat sits on her bony back, the shoulders padded to an alarmingly height. Her hair has taken a similar stance, piled high upon her head in perhaps an effort to match the copious amount of eye makeup that she is adorning. Her nails are shimmering with glittering silver, the only exhibition of her usual spontaneity.

And as she watches me, and I her, I realise that even her lips have been painted the dull hue. I blink a few times, reminding myself that she is a real human being, and not an ethereal figure that has stepped out of one the photographs I have at home.

"That was a little harsh, my dear," she smiles, tilting her head slightly.

"Only a little? Oh, shall I try again-?" I attempt to get out of my seat, but with a skeletal hand, she pulls me back down.

"Sit down Flux," Leech laughs, "You know, not even Johanna was this difficult when I was her stylist."

I feel a pathetic bout of pride swell in my chest at the notion, the feeling that for once I have beaten someone at something. However, the self-importance evaporates as quickly as it had manifested when Leech speaks again.

"She's trying her hardest Flux; you need to give her some credit. You need to give _yourself_ some credit,"

She jabs me once in the chest, her bedazzled nail settling over my heart. She smiles at me, and the way it reaches her eyes subdues me for a moment.

My vehement hatred of Leech has evaporated this last week, not completely, but significantly less than what it had begun as. She treats me like a child I've noticed, as if I were a fantastical manifestation of the grandchild she never had. She laughs at my frustrations, smiles at my so-called 'quirks' and when I had recently spent a night weeping into the caps of my knees, it was she who had held me.

I am about to say something, something I think to be witty, when I am interrupted by the triumphant tones of the Anthem, which is followed by the ever-optimistic tones of Caesar Flickerman.

He gloriously recalls an exciting week of Training, culminating in the all-important Training Scores.

"...got to say, we have some pretty impressive tributes this year. Nothing short of spectacular! I'm sure you're all dying to see their interviews when the time comes and believe me, I know exactly how you feel! But more of that later; now, for the Training Scores."

He offers his doting crowds one of his trademark smiles, and that is enough to remind of where I am, and what Leech represents.

"Why do you care?" I say, shrugging her off, "You're from the Capitol, you love all this,"

Marvel and Glimmer's menacing faces flash past me on the screen, followed by their equally impressive scores. They're nothing short of what I expected, though they are a little low all things considered.

"I used to. Back when I first started," says Leech, her tone quiet and almost pensive, "When you get older, things aren't as shiny as they used to be. You feel the weight of what you're doing, the burden you have to bear."

I look to her, unable to figure out if this is some sort of practise speech, or truly a work of her heart. Even as I watch her now, reminiscing over all the death and carnage she has witnessed, Leech begins to become something else to me. Despite her grey garments, Leech begins to exude colours and hues that up until this point had no value to me.

She smiles to herself, before looking up to catch my gaze.

"Do you want to know how long I've been a stylist for?"

I don't know if I want to know.

"How many?"

"_Forty years_," Leech says, laughing in amazement at the number, "Forty years; one Quarter Quell, and seventy-nine boys and girls. I've had to sit and watch seventy-nine kids-"

"My District had to go through one hundred and forty nine, Leech,"

I can remember a few of those one hundred and forty nine, classmates and neighbours mostly, but losses nonetheless. I can see their petrified faces, their wide and feverish eyes, the permanent drop of their jaw. I can recall their pale and ghostly pallor, however tough and blackened from the sun they may have been.

Leech smirks and looks down at me through the half moon of her glasses. "One hundred and fifty one,"

"Finally someone agrees with me!"

Leech chuckles, but there is nothing humorous in her tone. She twists her fingers idly in her lap, twitching her nose absently before she finally releases an almighty sigh.

"So you're sure you're going to die out there?" she asks.

"As sure as I know the sun will rise tomorrow," I return with quick succession.

"Maybe it's a good thing then," she muses, shrugging her shoulders. "They'd probably use you if you were crowned Victor,"

I look to her quizzically.

"They never let good-looking Victors go to waste," she informs me.

This time it is my turn to chuckle. "You're too old for me Leech,"

She cracks a wide grin and I cannot help but do so myself. Before long, Leech throws her head back and giggles, looking far more youthful than I have ever seen her. It is almost musical I suppose, that sound. Or maybe I'm simply imagining it so because I have been devoid of anything to laugh at for a while. I am about to join her in her jubilation, before a high pitched cry enters my ears.

"Flux!" Delphi calls excitedly from across the room. "We're next!"

The entire room falls silent, eyes locked on the large flat-screen television that looms over us. Caesar flashes one of his brilliant smiles, his blue hair twinkling with its embedded artificial jewels. He looks down to his paper, and though I am perhaps the only one to see it, he lets slip a little grin.

Caesar remains silent throughout this entire process on purpose, something I have seen countless times but only now can fully understand its effect; I can't stand the anticipation.

"District Seven," he announces, his voice to me almost booming. "Flux Elphinstone: Ten,"

My jaw has undoubtedly fallen to the floor, scattered and shatter into a million pieces, and judging by the outbursts of laughter and triumph among the others, so have theirs. Leech rubs me on the shoulder, whilst the only male in my Prep Team, Cassius, gives me double thumbs up. Johanna catches my eye and even she manages a whole-hearted, "Well done,"

"Wait, shh, shh!" I hear one of the others say, and once again, the entire room falls silent although the excitement still hangs in the air.

My mind slips away for a moment, and though I am wretched to admit it, a feel a small burst of delight swell in my chest; perhaps I am not a _complete_ failure. F But the pride evaporates as quickly as it had come, for no matter the Score, it does not change what I will be forced to do within the next few days.

Caesar builds the same anticipation, before again he announces:

"Delphi Elphinstone: Seven,"

The room erupts into an uproar, but even I can hear it is a little subdued. Seven is not a bad score, more than half but given my achievement, it does through the mystical number into doubt.

But nevertheless, Delphi sits beaming in her seat, blushing as she accepts the praise and pats on her back.

"...District Eight..."

With practised ease, Caesar has fluently moved onto to the next District and yet, his words linger with me.

"I don't know," I splutter, shaking my head, "Maybe they were more drunk than I'd thought-"

"Oh hush, Flux; you got a _ten_!" squeals Delphi, rushing over seemingly for the sole purpose of the twisting the skin off my forearm. She squeals again, and locks me into a crushing embrace. Perhaps, if she had been not been my sister, I would have taken her overt enthusiasm as a manipulative deploy to soften me up. But I know Del, I know that twinkle in her eye to be true.

"Still doubt yourself?" Johanna asks, sitting as cool as a cucumber with her leg crossed over the other. She attempts to keep her tone dry and unwavering, but even I can hear an undercurrent of pride.

I'd like to say 'yes', I'd like to shoot her down with a scathing remark or a biting comment, but for some reason I cannot bring myself to do so. Something deep within me holds me back, urging me to savour the moment in its purity and not to sully it with my qualms and gloomy thoughts. Something tells me to capture these pieces, these rare bouts of genuine happiness, and lock them away into that part of mind.

And so I sit, smiling, nodding, grasping foreign hands as for once in a long while, the District Seven team has something to hope for. Something to hope for, even if Death sits idly at the door, biding Its time before It will finally come in.

* * *

**AN: Once again, I took so long to update, but at least my writer's block has cleared up! Thank you so very much to Someone's Charm and a thousand apologies to HermioneandMarcus, whom I did not mention in my thankyou last chapter! **_**Sooo**_** sorry! **


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